


Spiralling

by churrcch



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Begging, Biting, Bottom Jeremiah Valeska, Dinner, Ecco ships it, Fainting, Fantasizing, First Time, Humor, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Neck Kissing, No Man's Land, Obsession, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Bruce Wayne, also bruce is 18 it's all legal and consensual, also j can't hold a conversation he only does monologues sorry uwu, boys wearing makeup, bruce being a soft baby, i don't own gotham or any of the characters, i mean i guess i tried, like first time together but they're both sexually active, miah being a mess, miah may or may not be having an existential crisis, miah pretending to be a power bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churrcch/pseuds/churrcch
Summary: Jeremiah is done with letting Bruce lie to himself. All he needs is a little push in the right direction - and a glass of whiskey that he won't finish.





	Spiralling

**Author's Note:**

> hey there, kids.  
> uhh i haven't written fanfiction in suuuch a long time and i kinda wanna get back into it so please please please leave some feedback and tell me what you like and what you don't or tips or basically anything constructive please and thank you  
> also ignore that jeremiah completely forgot that he had a reason to kidnap bruce. he's a gay mess his mind is a neverending loading screen when his sweet boy toy is around even though he hides it pretty well.  
> anyway enjoy i guess! leave a comment! see ya at the end notes

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He was supposed to change the world for the better. He was supposed to thrive, to create and to help, to live a relatively healthy life after Jerome's death. He was supposed to move out of his bunker. He was supposed to get to know the mysterious Bruce Wayne better and maybe even significantly deepen their already existent connection. Maybe even pursue him romantically one day. Hold hands with him, cover each other in small kisses, have an adorable domestic relationship. He was supposed to learn to love; Bruce was supposed to teach him. He was supposed to change the world for the better. Things were looking up.

An unexpected gift from a hot billionaire he had just met was supposed to be the sign that finally showed him that he was wanted, after all, and people did appreciate his company. But all it proved to Miah was how stupid he was for ever thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would ever get out of the loop of misery he was born in. Come in filth, live in filth, go in filth. The Valeskas were tainted from the start; irreparably broken.

*

Close. He's so close to him, closer than he's ever been ever since the bridges collapsed. His blood's boiling in his veins and a small enthusiastic giggle almost escaped his blood red lips. Another clash of divinities, except this time Jeremiah plans on making them merge into one powerful force of nature. Nothing could stop them if they were together; he just has to make Wayne see that, even if he has to cut off his eyelids and force his beautiful eyes open. The green-haired man would do anything for him. He has to see that, he just has to.

The stiches are still sore since he was stabbed multiple times by Curls, but the spray has really been a great anesthesic for when he's aching, so it's better than it should be. Purple coat fluttering behind him, he peeks behind the velvet curtain: a grunting teenager with dark hair and strong arms is struggling in the throne he's tied to. Jeremiah smiles sweetly, but calms himself shortly after. He's going to be professional. Follow the plan. Follow the plan. Follow the plan.

The sounds the heels of his sparkly shoes make echo in the empty theatre. Bruce stops moving. He can hear his heavy breathing, slightly shaking. Pursing his lips to contain his bright grin, he steps forward.

The boy makes a small sound of surprise when his eyes meet the green-haired man's. The latter puts a gloved hand over his mouth (we won't speak of the shivers that go down his spine). "I know you'll scream if I let you talk, Bruce. Just don't yell too loudly - for your sake. No one's going to hear you and you'll just wear out your pretty voice." 

As expected, he screams. A lot. But he calms down eventually. J knew he would. He knows him. He does, he really does. He swears he does.

"Have you thought about my offer?" He looks down and uncovers his hands to distract himself from the daggers that kept coming from those baby blue eyes. "I'm doing everything for you, Bruce. Please tell me you appreciate it, at least."

The teenager draws in a harsh breath and leans forward with all his force. Close. Their faces are so close. Come closer... "Don't." he whispers. Jeremiah's heart breaks a little inside, but just enough to be mended right back by the sweet scent of vanilla that radiates off of the brunette. He's so... beautiful. So vulnerable, so perfect. This is going to work out perfectly. He can sense it. "Don't smear me with the blood on your hands. This is all you. I-I have nothing to do with your choices." Jeremiah gazes longly at the boy. This is what he's been missing. He can already feel fuller, more put together than he's ever been; but not complete, no, not yet.

"Bruce," he says slowly as his eyes examine his irises, mesmerized, and kneels in front of the handsome boy. "I would never taint a single hair on your head with anything that resulted from my utterly gruesome actions. They are merely the mandatory tasks that I am obliged to do if I want you to have the future that I know you deserve. The future that my love for you compells me to give you, the future that I sacrificed my whole life for, the future worth renouncing the rest of my humanity for. I give it all to you and I would give it to you every day for the rest of my existence. And truth be told, it hurts that you reject my devotion, but I will keep giving it to you nonetheless. Do you understand me, Bruce? Do you feel my craving? Do you validate my urge, my ache for you? Will you ever?" Wayne opens his mouth in order to answer, but Jeremiah just shushes him and presses his ice cold fingers to the boy's open mouth. The hot breath against his skin makes him shudder; he desperately wants to shove them down his throat, but he buries those thoughts quickly. Inappropriate thoughts must be saved for when he's alone. "It's okay, Bruce." he whispers. A small sad smile's dancing on his lips. "The mere thought that you acknowledge my feelings fuels the fire that rages inside of me." He grabs his shoulder with his free hand, voice slightly cracking. "It's burning me, Bruce. Your absence is... making me suffer very greatly. I need you to understand me, Bruce. You're what I've been searching for. I know it is intense and sudden but part of me wants to protect you." The green-haired genius swallows and breathes out gently. "Even though the other part of me just wants entirely destroy every last piece of you." 

Bruce's eyes widen, but he doesn't back away - if anything, he draws nearer. Jeremiah's fingers never left his mouth and are now lingering on his lower lip, creeping over the side of his cheek and slowly slithering into his dense hair. They're both silent. So silent their heavy breaths echo throughout the dark theatre. Dim stage lights contour the teenager's smooth face with strident shadows, angles accentuated and high points almost glowing. Particles of dust levitate around Gotham's son, gently sitting on his long eyelashes and flying off when they flutter, pupils dilating faintly. The green-haired man swallows again, completely lost somewhere in between the teen's ocean eyes and his slightly sticky lips. 

He decides it's better to back away.

*

Bruce watches the tall man retreat and then disappear under the curtains. He barely even got the chance to talk, and he already left. The boy doubts he'll ever get to understand Jeremiah Valeska, even though he would adore nothing more than just that.

When they met, Bruce couldn't escape the new fantasies that entered and plagued his mind as soon as the ginger man looked at him. Fantasies of cuddling in bed at 6 in the morning, sunlight melting from the window and into his gorgeous emerald eyes, lazy smooches and cheap orange juice from the corner store. Fantasies of passionate makeout sessions against cold metal tables, important blueprints spread all over the tile floor, long fingers drawing blood when digging into his back, pulling at his messy red hair, moans and bitemarks and hickies and adrenaline. Love, lust, romance, desire. Jeremiah Valeska. Fuck, Jeremiah Valeska...

He hadn't seen him in so long. Bruce would've preferred to say that he almost forgot about him, but of course he didn't. A huge nerd with ginger hair, adorable glasses, a terrible past and intriguing personality turned him on, yes, but then he transformed almost instantly into this bonkers mass murderer with erotic crimson lips and slicked back green hair and fascinating (but totally insane) ideologies and suddently Bruce was fucking gone. Obviously, no one knew and no one was ever going to find out since he was such an amazing actor, but he could barely keep up the act when Jeremiah established any form of contact with him. He almost lost it a few moments ago.

However, his daydreaming was rudely interrupted by Ecco bouncing her way to the stage where Bruce's "throne" is fixated onto the floor. "You sure did upset boss, kiddo! Never seen him so shaken - yikes!" She winks dramatically, but then immediately stops being cheeky and returns to the weirdly serious attitude he's seen before. "You really don't deserve him, do ya? Or maybe you just don't get him?" She crouches and starts working on something at his feet. "He's a visionary, you see: he's gone through so much bazinga so he can remodel Gotham into its perfect form..."

"You don't really have to tell me, I already know." Ecco shoots back up, furrowing her brows and with her arms crossed against her chest childishly. "He has a brilliant mind; I told him that before and I still mean it. Jeremiah was truly meant for greatness." Bruce continues. The assistant seems pleased with his answer, but then she pushes him back, grabbing the chair and dragging him along the stage and under the curtains into a long hall. There is some loud classical music and screams of terror coming from the other side of a door. However, someone at another door seems to really be enjoying themselves...

"Oh boy, mister Wayne, aren't you excited for tonight? I sure am! And I'm not even going!" she giggles. Bruce raised an eyebrow in confusion, which the girl observed and explained. "You are going on a date tonight! Well, not really a date if we're talking Jeremiah words since he didn't specifically say it's a date, but totally a date if we're talking any other kind of words!" She sang the first sentence, which almost made Bruce smile. Date, though? In these clothes? He thinks he probably smells like garbage by now. Wait, is that why he left the stage? Oh, shit, maybe that's why! How embarrassing, to be a billionaire and stink of rotten eggs.

She drags him further down the hall until they reach a black door. The jester smiles widely as she opens the door to reveal probably the nicest and nerdiest changing room ever. "This" she throws her hands around to emphasise. "is mister J's room. For now, anyway. He went right ahead to prepare somewhere else so you get to dress up here!" Bruce hums. That makes sense. The blueprints and maze drawings on the walls basically yell for the only living twin. "Also, I'm in charge!" she sang, grinning. "Let's get this pretty boy even prettier!"

*

Miah hated this situation, no matter how much he loved the ego boost that came with it. He hated that everything went smoothly, that he succeeded to predict every move Bruce made. Maybe there is still a hidden piece of him that still hoped that the boy was harder to manipulate, harder to break down. Seems not. After all, it wasn't the first time his empathy got the best of him when it would've been preferable not to. 

But no, he also refused to believe he was so soft. The man barely even talked to him, it's impossible he already tore him open with just his desperate act. Well, mostly an act. Jeremiah figured it's easier to lie along with small confessions; this time, though, it was more like a very exaggerated truth. He did like Bruce, quite a bit, really, but he didn't like him to the point his indepence was compromised like he insinuated (Thank God).

Standing in front of the dirty vanity mirror in Ecco's room, he realizes his makeup is flaking. He gets up and starts looking through Ecco's things for his spare makeup. 

He does find a black eye pencil which he'll probably use for his eyebrows and a white concealer. Maybe he'll try to hide his bruises with it; and define his brows, of course. What he was looking for in particular, however, wasn't around. Does Ecco even own one? Jeremiah didn't know, but he really hoped she did. It'd make one hell of an easier task to seduce the 18 year old - or at least that's what he thought. Makeup was, after all, something that high school boys really seemed to appreciate in girls and women in general. Is Bruce into makeup? He really didn't seem to mind it up until now, especially the red lipstick since he kept staring at it all the time. He should look for one, also. 

All the thinking about cosmetics had the mastermind starting to wonder what other things the boy is into. Well, they are both of age, so suddently the thought isn't all that unrealistic. Maybe if he gives him the green light, he'll think about it. But oh, yes, he'll definitely be thinking about it later nevertheless...

He coughs into his gloved hand. No steamy thoughts before dinner, Jeremiah. "There it is..." he mumbles as he grabs the powder highlighter from behind the mirror.

*

"Ecco, do you have anything that doesn't smell like Jeremiah around here?" The jester whistles and laughs at the sight of the almost naked boy, which makes him hurry right back into the underground bathroom.

"Come on out, bashful Brucie! Didn't mean to scare ya! I've seen a good share of naked guys before." Wayne doesn't answer. "You're not even half as exposed as the other hotties J brings here. Stop acting like you're in a nunnery, darlin'!" Ecco smiles when Bruce basically runs back into the room dressed into the pair of jeans and turtleneck her boss bought for him looking slightly confused and very irritated. She checks her nails, trying to seem uninterested. "Yeah, when he's done with them they're usually completely stripped."

He crosses his arms. "Oh, really." He doesn't seem very impressed.

"Oh, really!" Ecco grins widely. "Completely stripped and pretty much opened up in that way. They're all over the place." The boy rolls his eyes and she could swear she heard a small "whore" coming from his direction. She laughed. "Yikes! Chill out, puddin', he strips them of skin. And when I said they're all over the place I meant all over the walls. Mister Valeska isn't really the most sexually open person there is. I've known him for quite some years and he succeeded to hide every masturbation from me! Which is like, almost impossible cause he does it quite a lot!" 

She stops when she realizes Bruce Wayne is as red as a lobster, fact that draws another high-pitched laugh from the blonde. He took his seat in front of the mirror, hands clasped in his lap, and whispered hastily. "I'll need lots of makeup to cover my face now cause I won't be able to take those words out of my head for the rest of the night."

*

Jeremiah is waiting patiently at the table, legs crossed and back ruler-straight. He wonders if the makeup is maybe a bit too much, but then he remembers that if he didn't seem confident his plan would fail, so he put on a satisfied smile and went back to his initial position. Ecco should waltz in with the boy soon enough. He must have at least 10 minutes until then, though; perfect time to meditate and make sure the plans are absolutely perfect.

It's all going like clockwork by now - obviously. Jeremiah's acting is amazing and ever since the cemetery scene, it just keeps getting better. He had to figure out how to replace his newfound emptiness so even when he's not really trying to pretend, he slips in some theatrical tricks to keep him look "human". No one ever notices, and that gives the genius a significant ego boost.

He takes a small glass and pours himself exactly two fingers of whiskey. He raises the drink to his mouth, closes his eyes and inhales profoundly. He closes in the space between his lips and the cold glass, taking a sip. "Impeccable." he whispers. 

Not many things got Jeremiah to feel anything anymore. Just a few very select and exquisite things that the cult leader kept insisting on having on his person at most times: a special bourbon that he had drank before his "transformation" and that he is drinking at this very moment, his brother's diary as a reminder that he can do so much more than the other ever even dreamt of and, of course, Bruce Wayne, his favorite billionaire boy toy. Yes, the beverage burns his throat and the journal never fails to strike the match and light up his anger, but nothing could ever compare to the feelings the 18 year old makes him feel. Bruce, in Jeremiah's mind, is synonymous with "roughness" and maybe only breaking down an actual winged deity could match the pleasure messing with the boy gives him. Pleasure and pain, that is. He hasn't forgotten the way his eyes lit up when he looked at the old him back in the bunker. 

But the hurting only turns him on even more.

Ecco marches in with the one and only Wayne boy unconscious in the hands of the bigger, more massive pilgrims that stand behind her. She looks at him, waiting to be allowed to talk. Eyes sticked to Bruce's powerless body, he nods in approval, which makes Ecco smile enthusiastically and tilt her head slightly. "He's all yours, boss! Give me a shout if you need anything, I'm gonna be right-"

"Not necesarry, my darling Ecco. You have already done so much for me today. Such a good girl." He stands up. "Now, now, we don't have time to chit-chat. Leave us. If any of you dares to even come near us before we are done, the respective person will meet a tragic end. And ruin our dinner, of course, which would be even more tragic. So let's all follow the plan and have some fun while we're at it, shall we?"

They all bowed their heads and left the room, leaving the blonde and the brunette boy  
behind. She puts Bruce on his chair and turns around, expression very serious. "Be careful, J." He rolled his eyes and watched her sigh and back away, hurried.

*

Bruce opens his eyes and immediately sees Jeremiah, so he shuts them back tight, praying for the return of the suddently sweet hit of Ecco's gun against his temple.

"Why, Bruce, if I hadn't known you were raised by Thomas and Martha, I would say you're a terribly rude person. Of course, they were such gentle people-"

"Stop talking about my parents."

He reopens his eyes to be greeted by a pair of sparkling silver rings staring right back at him with interest from the other side of the table. As he looks around, he notices that they're not in the theatre anymore, but in an adandoned warehouse with red fairy lights along its wrecked walls, much like every other location that Jeremiah had prepared for their meetings. It all seemed annoyingly formal, despite the unconventional surroundings: his partner is wearing a black and scarlet three piece that fits perfectly and flatters his wide and muscular shoulders and everything is chaotically ordered in the whole space.The full moon floats in the ocean of stars and clouds beyond the giant window just above them, strangely resembling Miah's eyes and lightening the table covered in all kinds of plates and glasses. The man lets out a quiet chuckle. "Of course. I'm very sorry. How unkind of me to remind you of them in such terrible times." Jeremiah tilts his head, attentive. "Do you forgive me, Bruce?"

The boy hesitates. Does he? Can his charm cover up his mistakes? His murders, his sins? Is Jeremiah worthy of anyone's forgiveness? Of course not. "Yes, I do."

"Thank you, Bruce." he replied with wide eyes, then proceeded to examine his appearance, taking his time to probably take in all the details. "I have to say, you do look breathtaking tonight. I'm glad to see the clothes I picked for you fit. Are you pleased with them?" 

Bruce would love to answer, really, but he's a bit stuck at the end of the second sentence. Breathtaking. "Oh, yeah, they're okay. Uh, thank you, I suppose." The boy shifts in his chair uncomfortably and realizes that suprinsingly he's not tied. "Why aren't I chained up?"

"How cruel do you think I am, to force you to have dinner with me? You are my guest." The man strokes his chin, then starts pouring himself some whiskey. "I assume you would be right, though. I murdered quite a number of people. However, tonight I don't plan on killing anyone." He gives him a look and a smile. "And hopefully, I won't be killed, either. But I guess that's part of the charm of being near you, Bruce: I never know if I will have my skull smashed in or gently caressed. Either one, it is a pleasure. Drink?"

The brunette really hopes Ecco did an amazing job at covering up his face with foundation because he's pretty sure his face looks like a very ripe strawberry. He mutters a small "yes" and watches the older man pour him two fingers of bourbon. Speaking of makeup... "You're glowing. Are... you wearing highlighter, Jeremiah? I never thought you'd go beyond the usual lipstick-eyeshadow-eyebrows-white foundation ritual."

"First things first," he speaks as he hands the boy his glass. "I don't use foundation, my face is just that pale. Second things second, yes, I am. Don't you like it? And third things third, why are you wearing makeup, Bruce?" The billionaire's fingers tangle in his lap awkwardly. How is he going to explain this?

"Uhm, acne?"

Jeremiah smiles widely, eyes narrowing and face leaning forward slightly. "That's a lie. I would've noticed by now. One of my favorite things to do is watch you, Brucie." He shudders at the nickname the man before him's brother gave him in maybe even less pleasant circumstances. His eyes follow the green-haired engineer as he makes his way towards him, stopping at mere centimeters and almost forcing him to press his chin to his chest. Taking off his red leather gloves and placing them on the table, he grabs the side of his face rougher than expected and examines him carefully. He feels chills going down his spine and can't help but wonder if that's what Jeremiah himself carving into him would feel like. Probably not, but his head's not clear enough to be this sober. Eyes still stuck on the man, he reaches for his beverage, takes a quick sip then slams it back on the table. It burns his throat in the best way, making him cough slightly. Valeska chuckles. "Is this your way of coping with the presence of a man that's too close for comfort? Should I back away?"

"No."

"You answered a bit too fast, Bruce. Maybe you should stop trying to silence your moral values with alcohol that's clearly too strong for you. I should've brought some apple juice, I know it's your favorite." Bruce leans into the other's touch, drawing a small and almost mute gasp from him. "Look who's getting comfortable! What would Selina say?"

The teenager sighs deeply and closes his eyes, enjoying the low temperature that radiates off of the hand on his heated face. "You talk too much, Jeremiah. Selina's not my girlfriend anymore and she made it pretty clear that she won't want me back for quite a while." Jeremiah cups Bruce's other cheek.

"How does that make you feel?"

Bruce hesitates. Would he really confess to one of his greatest enemies his feelings regarding, well, anything? "Betrayed. Used. I've always been there for her. I've always loved her, even when she fucked up really badly. And I guess she loved me back sometimes, but only when it was convenient to her and her intentions. Yeah, maybe I don't know her as well as I claim to and yeah, maybe I was an asshole to her ocassionally, but she keeps toying with my emotions. And that hurts, it hurts a lot."

"Didn't expect any better from her. Prythee," he whispers in his ear. "tell me more." When did he get on his feet? He literally only took a sip of whiskey, what is happening?

"Did you drug my drink?"

Jeremiah giggles softly. "Didn't have to. You get so weak when we're close, Bruce. But honestly, I share your emotions. You do seem to... enfeeble me. I would like to let it show tonight." The man breathes out shakily. "Wouldn't you?"

If Jeremiah wasn't holding his head in his palms, he would've probably fallen. A pair of soft lips touch his jaw slightly, hot breath against his skin, and Bruce's brain short circuits, letting out a short error sound which probably came out as a moan. The mastermind smirks into the kiss, gliding his hands into the boy's hair, pulling slightly and moving his mouth closer and closer to the other's. Bruce tugs at his shiny vest, attempting desperately to close in the very little space between them as fast as humanly possible or, if viable, even faster. After applying a small smooch on each corner of Bruce's open mouth, he gently bit at his lower lip, teasing the younger man into distress. And you can bet it worked because Bruce groans and clashes their mouths roughly, Jeremiah moving his hands down his back and around his waist while Bruce melts his arms around the man's neck. The kiss is open-mouthed and wet and brutal and the Wayne boy has never felt this much at once before, not even when with Selina. It seems like it could go on forever. He could feel the arousal pool low in his body as his newfound lover played with the hem of his turtleneck as if waiting for consent. Suddently, the kiss is broken by a breathless Jeremiah that studies his ruffled hair and dilated pupils like he could blink and the boy would disappear. His red lipstick is smeared and Bruce feels an almost animalistic urge to lick it off his face completely. J brushes his lips over his cheek, humming. "What would Jesus do?"

Bruce grabs the back of his head and forces the man's big bright eyes to meet his. He would usually assume his face is red from embarrassment but he's too sure of this to be ashamed. This feels right. This is right. "Touch me."

"Oh, Brucie," Jeremiah says, moving his cold hand over the lean stomach, making him shiver, exploring every inch of skin and building a mental map of every scar and bruise he feels against his fingertips. "you know how much I love a man who knows what he wants." They entangle their tongues again, Jeremiah easily dominating Wayne's mouth, but it ends very abruptly, the green-haired man violently pulling at the other to purr in his ear: "But you also know how much I love hearing you beg."

Every existent sense of right and wrong was completely erased from Bruce's mind. The words resonate between the walls of his skull, cranial vault filled with thoughts of Jeremiah, Jeremiah, Jeremiah. His pants feel tighter and tighter with every moment teeth graze the sensible spot between his neck and shoulder and frozen hands brush against his nipples. "For the love of - ah - p-please. God, Jeremiah, I'm begging you, touch me... Just fucking touch me..." 

He can feel a devilish smirk nuzzling below his chin. "Yes, be harsh, Bruce. Stop pretending to be someone you're not, a submissive boy-hero. Tell me what to do, exactly what you yearn for." A small sting under his jawline sends electric spikes through every nerve of his being and he clutches the green hair firmer. "Let go. Take what's undeniably yours." Something clicks inside Bruce and he shoves the older man against the table. Forks and knives rattle against white plates and fall on the cold tile floor, smashing into tiny triangular and rectangular pieces. The two men's hips are pressed, anchored to each other as if one would crumble without the other's body pinned against theirs. Connected.

"I want you." Bruce breathes into the other's mouth, lips hovering over Jeremiah's long gasps and fingers digging into the visible bleached skin of his chest. "Give yourself to me." 

Long eyelashes flutter, stuck in a venereal haze, silver rings painted almost completely black. "Before dinner?" Faces so close, yet painfully far, Bruce could smell the woody and slightly smoky fragrance of the bourbon that they shared earlier, but never got to finish. One moment later, they were devouring each other once more, Jeremiah attempting to trick the billionaire into being in control with his sensual moans and ocassional nips at his lower lip that soon caused the kiss to be coated in a sweet irony liquid. Intertwined and panting growly, they clawed their way out of the clothes and back onto each other, biting and sucking and scratching in the most soul-shattering inhuman way until they're both in just underwear. The brunette grips the other's thigh, immediately hooking it around his buckling hips, then repeating the action with the other leg, leaving Jeremiah breathless and completely scattered across the table. His red lips are swollen and wet with saliva, bitten tongue sharp and bleeding behind his teeth. Bruce is in awe in front of the mangled god spread open before him in the most beautifully vulnerable and erotic way. Their eyes meet and Bruce's cock twitches against the man's lower side. "Bruce." he manages to say between harsh breaths, hoarse voice arousing the brunette more than he thought possible. He swipes off his purple boxers in one swift motion, taking his time to admire and then caress J's thighs before freeing his own aching erection from the pair of underwear, throwing them over the shards of porcelain and crystal. Jeremiah whimpers before extending his arm in front of the boy's face. "Lube. Lube..." 

"Where... Have any?" Bruce says, feeling way too stimulated for this situation. 

The wrecked genius shakes his head and breathes out shakily. "Not in the plan. Not in the plan. I don't have any on me, Bruce." The boy swears. This is, to say it nicely, really fucking unpleasant but also really fucking funny. Throwing his head back, he erupts into a painfully acute laughter that rings throughout the deserted building and, unbalanced, he half-falls over Jeremiah's damp and sticky with sweat body. He lets his convulsing hands to find their way to the man's face, cupping it lightly. 

"This must be the first thing you couldn't anticipate in, like, forever." Bruce says, still giggling. "Ecco could and you couldn't. This is ridiculous!"

Jeremiah huffs. "Then ask Ecco for lube!" The boy takes a few steps back, which makes the green-haired man groan. The box that the blonde assistant left for them "just in case" sat next to a bunch of empty leftover crates. He takes it quickly and returns between his lover's legs, putting the package on his stomach. After removing the purple lid, he hands his lover the small note that says "I meant it when I said to be careful, J" and inspects the interior: a bottle of lubricant, a pack of condoms, a whip and a pair of handcuffs. He eventually decides that he's gonna leave the sex toys for another time and grabs the first two. Jeremiah purses his lips in annoyance and throws the message behind him. "Sometimes I hate it when she's useful." 

Bruce grins darkly and puts the condom on his cock. "I don't know, she's really starting to grow on me."

"Shut up and lube me up, superhero." The 18 year old squeezes some of the cold liquid onto his fingers and starts stroking the other's hole, drawing small circles around it. Hums and moans fill the room as the genius slowly pushes himself on Bruce's finger, who works his way deeper and deeper into the man, slowly adding fingers with time and scissoring them to loosen him up. 

*

Jeremiah is a pretty whiny bottom, but he's especially loud and desperate when he's topped by the boy he's been fantasizing about for months on end. 

Somehow, the needy sounds just keep escaping his mouth. It isn't like him to be so out of control and so ecstatically happy about it, but the Wayne boy is doing such an amazing job at preparing him for the penetration that precum just leaks from the tip of his cock down to his balls. He wants him inside - he needs him inside and he needs him now. 

"Br-Bruce, just get down to it. Get down to it, damn it." he growls under his breath. His skin is crawling with desire and anticipation as Bruce places a finger to his lips, shushing him.

"But you know how much I love hearing you beg..." he repeats Jeremiah's words from earlier, eyes wide and mouth curling into an almost innocent smile. The genius shakes his head, biting back a moan; he may be a bottom, but he's not submissive. 

He thinks that, but just as Bruce hits the G-spot three times in a row, he arches his back and the words just keep pouring from his mouth: "Fuck! Bruce, I'm begging you, just fuck me. Please, God, just fuck me. I can't stand this, I can't keep this up anymore..." 

The brunette smiles, satisfied, and removes his hand from the man's hole, leaving him feeling empty and unfulfilled. He watches him lubricate his thick cock, light-headed with the pleasure that courses through his veins and defiant to every rule he has ever imposed upon himself. Bruce grabs his hips harshly and turns him around until he's facing the cold metal table and his legs are hanging pathetically from the edge, hands attempting to clutch anything to stabilize himself as the head of the boy's cock rests at his entrance, gently pushing in. 

A hot breath ghosts over his neck and he feels dizzier and dizzier with every inch that Wayne buries in him, filling every pore in his body. He's going too gently. Jeremiah needs it rough, wild and unrestrained, Jeremiah needs it deadly and he needs it now. "Go faster..." he pleads behind clenched teeth. "Stop playing and ruin me, Bruce. Just fucking ruin me. I need it, I need you." Teeth tug on his right earlobe and he moans deeply. The rhythm fastens noticeably and soon enough he's being violently pounded from behind, making him slam his head against the cool surface, overwhelmed with passion and the blood buzzing in his ears. Jeremiah sees stars as his lover pauses inside him and sucks on every piece of skin he can reach, leaving a trail of beautiful bluish-purple bruises along his spine and neck, a work of art that's for his eyes only. The table's splattered with saliva, tears of bliss and blood that drips down J's mutilated inner lip, the viscous combination mixing with the drops of sweat that adorn the crumbled deity's left cheek in an unholy chrism. Bruce's hand moves from his hip to rake through his hair and pull hard, resetting the ferocious pace. Jeremiah moans as he feels nails digging into his side and scalp, reddened mouth agape against the wet metal and trembling palms trying to find something, anything, to anchor himself to in order not to lose consciousness. A sticky hand finds its way to his dick, stroking it fast and taking away his breath.

The man behind him quickens the speed even more, hitting the spot almost every time and exhaling shakily, signaling that he's going to come soon. Blood boiling, Jeremiah's vision begins to blur and the lights start to dim. His hearing slowly fades and is replaced by sudden white noise as his cock jerks, coming and sending shockwaves through his entire body. Feeling an intense pulsating inside of him and the moan of a mixture of his name and curse words, he collapses onto the table.

*

The first thing he notices when he's regained consciousness is that his head really hurts. The second, that Bruce is basically screaming at nothing and no one in the background.

Jeremiah opens his eyes. "Ouch." he says, bringing his hand to his burning forehead. The moon is still visible out the warehouse window, so he mustn't have been out for too long, maybe a few minutes at best, but way more than enough to make the boy freak out. Speaking of...

"You fucker!" Bruce exclaims and runs clumsily, landing on him knees next to the man laid out on the floor. "What the hell happened?! I thought I fucked you to death, you absolute jackass!" He hugs him, head buried in the space between his neck and shoulder. "I thought I fucked the life out of you. Don't ever do that to me again, you hear me?"

Jeremiah forces back a laugh. "I'm fine. Sorry I scared you, Bruce. I do tend to faint when overstimulated, even though it's never happened during, well... intercourse." Wayne draws back to look at him with big relieved eyes and a small smile dancing on his pretty lips. His lover grasps his chin and slightly tilts it up and towards his own face. "You really are irresistable, aren't you?" He lets his lips rest against the boy's, gently tracing their outline with the tip of his tongue, pressing them again and then deconnecting them. Cheek stroked by the back of the other's hand, Bruce sighs and shuts his eyes tightly. 

"I already almost lost you once, Jeremiah. To Selina. I'm not sure I could stand losing you again, you know." he says. "Especially not when we're having sex, for fuck's sake."

They both laugh, the older man cupping his face and pressing their foreheads together while the younger holds him by the wrists loosely. They stay like that for a while, on the floor, even after they stopped laughing. Just breathing, appreciating each other's presence and enjoying the silence, for once. Gotham is such a loud and dangerous city, they forget there's barely any time to stop and just relax. 

"This is pretty wholesome, honestly." Bruce whispers, after some time passes. 

Jeremiah inhales and exhales deeply. "Yeah. Yeah, it kind of is."

"I'm surprised this isn't some gang's meth lab or something. Ever since you blew up the bridges, it's been really hard to find an unoccupied quiet place that actually stays that way for a few hours."

"This is on my territory, Bruce. No one dares to come near if I say not to."

"Oh." There's a pause. "Did you tell your followers not to be anywhere near us? J nods gently enough to keep their foreheads pressed, but obviously enough to get his point across. "You do realize that if you were actually dying under me, on that table, I would've been too far from any kind of help to actually get any help, right?"

"There also was the risk that you would just attack me and leave with no one to stop you and yet here I am." he answers, smiling. "Whether I get to leave in one piece or not, Bruce, is irrelevant. Being here with you, that is relevant. That is the only relevant thing left for me in this city. Good health is overrated, anyway."

And as Bruce Wayne giggles, Jeremiah Valeska realizes that might be more to him than his tragic past and insanity spray. He can be funny and sweet and romantic and maybe even good enough for a certain billionaire. But they have time to figure what and who they are, together and apart. With Gotham cast aside by the rest of the world, all they have is time - and each other.

**Author's Note:**

> welp! what do you think? i mean, it's a start? it's too long and the smut scenes aren't exactly the hottest but it's my first time writing ~♥sexy tymez♥~ and it was a LOT of fun; hhhh i don't know leaveacomment  
> sooo see ya next time i guess? if i'll get better at writing or not is a mystery. you'll have to read my shit to find out☺☺☺


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